


bad girls do it well; a bering & wells fic

by tallulahs



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, F/F, Riot Grrrl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallulahs/pseuds/tallulahs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Ignore the title; I'm terrible with reducing a work to a title.)</p>
<p>Myka Bering needs to participate in more, (cough) extracurricular activities to avoid losing her scholarship at Lattimer Crest Academy, and Helena Wells has just the club to help. Actually, that makes it sound dirtier/cheesier than it is thus far. Bear with me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bad girls do it well; a bering & wells fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [willowcabins (ladymacbethsmurderer)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=willowcabins+%28ladymacbethsmurderer%29).



> Author's Note: This is my AU and I do what I want. Thus, Helena's club is a new Riot Grrl chapter, even though I'm relatively certain those no longer exist. Set present-day, with HG trying (and mostly succeeding) at bringing the early 90's punk/riot grrrl scene back to relevance. 
> 
> Sidenote: This is the first fic I've written in 3+ years; be patient, and gentle.

“I’m sorry, Miss Bering, but your scholarship mandates that you must be a part of multiple extracurricular activities,” Headmistress Frederic spoke in monotone, “Your file shows that since you enrolled last semester your only activity has been volunteering in the library. While we appreciate your efforts here, it’s time to branch out. Certainly one of the many clubs around campus is to your liking.”

“Y-yes, Mistress Frederic,” Myka stuttered. She found something about the headmistress’s presence unsettling. The woman tended to appear out of nowhere, this time from behind a shelf of non-fiction. “I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do,” the Headmistress responded, “It would be a shame for you to lose this scholarship; we’re both aware that it is not easy to acquire.”

Myka nodded, looking down at the shelf she had been organizing. “Yes ma’am, I do know. I think I could-“ she began. But the woman was gone.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alphabetizing was Myka’s happy place. Books were constant; reliable, and each had a place: in her heart and on the shelf. She couldn’t organize people the way she could texts, and that made her nervous.

“Pardon me,” a British accent permeated the high vaulted ceilings.

Helena Wells made her even more nervous.

“Yes?” Myka called back, clearing her throat. A head popped around the shelf (what was with people these days, popping up out of nowhere?), startling her.

“Right. There you are. I’m assuming you work here- or, volunteer?” Helena’s tone was smooth, metered, but coated in condescension. She was slightly windblown from the trek across campus, a flyaway hair stuck to her lips and she made no move to fix it. The sleeves of her regulation navy blazer were rolled up, pinned in place with metal buttons displaying phrases Myka couldn’t quite discern from the distance, and her Doc Martens looked like they were new but purposefully scuffed.

“You could say that,” Myka replied, attempting to mimic the girl’s confidence. Helena chuckled and began to approach, quickly closing the space between them.

“I need somewhere to leave these flyers, yes?” Helena pulled a sheaf of gritty photocopied pages from her bag. “They’re for the Riot Grrl chapter I’m starting,” she explained, answering Myka’s intrigued glance. Silence. “Hello? Anyone in there?” She reached out to touch Myka’s arm, sending a jolt through it.

Myka realized she had spaced, temporarily lost in her analysis of the situation. Helena Wells. Library. Hair stuck to lips. Toned forearms. Flyers. “Oh, yeah. No problem. You can leave them with me, I’ll ask Mr. Nielsen where to put them.”

Helena looked back in mild disbelief, looking less bored than she had the entire exchange, “You have to ask where to put a stack of papers? Seriously?” She laughed throatily at the seemingly absurd idea of asking for permission for absolutely anything.

“Well, there are.. rules for that sort of thing,” Myka replied, flushing a bit, “I.. At least I think there are. I don’t want to get in trouble. Apparently I’m on kind of thin ice with the scholarship board because I don’t have enough extracurriculars, and all I need is to lose this one, and I..” she trailed off. Stupid word vomit. “Seriously, I’ll take them. I’ll handle it.”

Again with the throaty laugh. “Alright.. That’s fine, I suppose. But you know, Bering, if you’re looking for a replacement activity…” She picked a flier from the top of her stack, “There’s always my club. Think about it; we need members. Right now it’s myself, Claudia Donovan, and some girl named Dakota that I don’t really know.” She handed the page to Myka, followed by the rest of the stack.

Myka scanned the flyer, captivated and obviously not responding anytime soon.

“Ohhhh.. kay,” Helena stated calmly, scrunching her nose as if the awkwardness of the situation had created a bad smell, “See you around, Bering.”

And with that, she was gone.

“Fuck,” Myka moaned. _Social anxiety strikes again_. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. It wasn’t that Helena was necessarily _popular_ , but there was something about her that caught your attention when she entered the room. She was the only girl in their class never known to have a pimple, for starters, which was flat out bizarre. Her hair was a curtain of black, but it was obvious she hadn’t dyed it. Come to think of it, Myka thought, it contrasted pretty nicely with her skin, which was bordering on ghostly pale, but in a charming way.

_Meetings Friday @ 7 PM in the Liddell Common Room_ , the flyer said. And Myka found herself thinking the week couldn’t pass quickly enough.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Myka folded and unfolded the flier for the seven hundredth time. She ran a hand through her curls absentmindedly, forcing herself to breath evenly. It was three thirty pm, Friday ( _Friday at 7 PM_ , she thought). Lattimer Crest students were allowed to dress however they chose on the weekends, and this caused a regular stir each Friday. As last period ended, scores of girls in wool skirts and knee socks shed their blazers no matter the outside temperature.

Myka walked across the courtyard, taking in the sights of the afternoon. It was an uncharacteristically warm day for March, and the ever elusive Seattle sun cast light through the sequoia branches above.

“Bering, wait up!” _Her._ Helena jogged up behind her, cheeks barely flushed.

_My name is Myka_ , she wanted to say haughtily. Instead: “Oh, hey Helena. What’s going on?” Myka asked nonchalantly, attempting to conceal her nerves.

“I was simply wondering if you’d given my organization further thought. We meet tonight, you know.” Helena smiled coyly.

“I know.” _Wow, great job, Bering. Two whole words._ “I mean, I did actually read your flier.” The words piled up on one another, and Myka found herself wishing she could be anywhere but here. She had been prepared to take all evening to psych herself up for the riot grrl meeting, and here she was face to face with the antagonist herself.

“Yes, yes, and before I’d even left the room,” Helena chuckled, “you seemed intrigued. And a touch spaced.” The layer of condescension had returned, but with an added air of interest.

Myka giggled nervously and squeezed the strap of her bag tightly. “I.. have my moments. Anyway, Helena, I have some things I should be doing. So.. See you around.”

“See you _tonight_ ,” Helena corrected with a sly smile, “at seven.” The look on her face implied that she would stop short of physically dragging Myka to the common room that evening. “Right then, goodbye!” And with that she turned on her heel and raced back from whence she came.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Safe in her bedroom, Myka peeled off her socks one by one, careful to deposit them in the laundry bag. Her mind was swimming, wondering why exactly Helena had been so intent on her attendance of the meeting, and exactly what one might wear to such an event. Most of the clubs on campus were covers for gossip and the occasional field trip into town for flirting with college boys or seducing old perverts into buying booze. But the word around school was that Helena had no issues finding suitors or alcohol, so something told Myka this would be different.

She flung herself across the bed face first and remained that way, head in the pillows, for several moments to gather her thoughts. _Research and observation. Okay._ Those were Myka’s strong suits, so she figured a few clicks on the Google machine would point her in the right direction.

By five, she had discovered that riot grrl was a movement based on music and feminism. Myka liked music and feminism. This was a good sign. By five fifteen, she was perusing images of fists enclosed by Venus symbols, certain she’d seen them before.. On Helena’s blazer. And by six, she felt confident enough that she could carry on a conversation at that evening’s meeting, and certain that any clothing she owned would be out of place.

And yet, at six fifty pm, Myka found herself standing at the door of Liddell Hall, laughter spilling out where someone had propped it open with a rogue shoe. She chewed the end of a Twizzler nervously, trying to make out which voice belonged to whom. The minutes crunched by, and just before seven Myka was awoken from her daze by a mahogany door to the face.

“Ow, shit!” she screamed, dropping her things in order to properly clutch her nose.

“Bering?” _Of COURSE it was Helena_. “Oh, bollocks! Are you alright?”

“I’m great, clearly. Don't the tears make that obvious?”

“Ah, pain makes you sassy. Duly noted,” Helena smirked, as she helped Myka gather her things. “Here, darling, I’ve got you. Stop fidgeting.”

The two limped inside, Myka’s arm around Helena’s neck, and Helena’s, in turn, around the shorter girl’s waist.

“What on earth were you doing lurking about the entrance, anyway?” Helena inquired.

Myka, still feeding off the pain and anger to fuel her sass snapped back, “I hardly think that’s the relevant question here. What are _you_ doing going around swinging doors like that? And by the way, my name is Myka. Not Bering. Myka.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I know your name, dear. I just had a sneaking suspicion pretending not to would get under your skin. I see my instincts are still well intact.”

_Of course she knew. Of -fucking-course._

“And as for the door, I was curious as to why you'd yet to arrive.”

“It didn’t bother me,” Myka snapped back, ignoring the footnote, “I just.. Whatever, _Wells.”_ She knew the comeback was ridiculous as soon as it left her lips, but there was no time to cover her ass.

The Liddell Hall common room looked much the same as any other on campus. They all had their own quirks and charm, but the layout was the same. The wallpaper was a subdued green, and the hardwood floors had been freshly polished over spring break. Two other girls sat on opposite sides of the room, engrossed in whatever their social media offered that day.

Claudia Donovan, on the left, legs thrown recklessly on the coffee table, had been in Myka’s Physics class the previous semester, even though she was a year below. She managed to get away with an ever changing colored streak near her bangs despite the dress code by fixing the school email system when it malfunctioned, an almost daily occurrence.

Another girl wearing a Hole t-shirt paired with a pearl necklace and cardigan was sprawled across the loveseat. Myka assumed this was the mysterious Dakota, though she’d never seen her around campus.

Helena cut Myka’s observations short, “Well, girls, I suppose this is us. The newly minted Lattimer Crest Riot Grrl Chapter. I assume with such a small number, officer elections will not be necessary.”

Claudia snorted, “Let me guess, that’s your way of letting us know you’ve officially declared yourself Madame President. I’m _incredibly_ shocked, H.G, really.” Myka admired her for the defiance in her voice.

“H.G.?” Myka spoke up, confused.

“My initials, darling. Helena G. Claudia here finds them preferable to my given name, apparently.” A sharp warning glance to Claudia, who ignored it. “And as the founding member of the chapter, I had assumed myself to be president, yes.”

The meeting carried on much like this for the next hour, quips from Claudia, glares from Helena, and not much from Myka or Dakota. It was established that Helena had procured the school activities suburban to attend a Sleater-Kinney reunion concert the next week. This, Myka discovered, was why the club had been formed so hastily. When the meeting adjourned, Helena had them each sign a sheet confirming their attendance (at least four members had to be on the record as attending for the club to be legitimate, and thus allow the trip). Myka was the last to scribble her name. Mid-‘Bering,’ Helena grabbed her wrist, and brought a finger to Myka’s lips. “Shh," she replied to Myka's protests, "don't move.”

“Alright, ladies. I’ll text the information for the concert. Enjoy your weekends!” Helena watched as Claudia and Dakota exited Liddell Hall and quickly removed the shoe from the threshold before pulling Myka towards the grand staircase. "Well, shall we?"

“Where are we going?” Myka asked, tripping over a stair. Helena had long legs, and judging from the way she skipped steps, wasn’t afraid to use them. _Long, toned, milky legs_ , Myka thought, staring at the exposed gams parallel to her face due to her position a few steps below.

“To my room, of course,” Helena giggled like, well, a schoolgirl, “there’s something I’d like to show you.”

Myka didn’t question her, feeling a mixture of nerves (surprise) and excitement, and followed her _friend? was she her friend?_ down the hallway. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

...to be continued, if anyone would like it to be.


End file.
